An Echo of Romance
by Kaelir of Lorien
Summary: It's been two years. Two long years, and Stacy has almost convinced herself that she's moved on. Almost. She knows, deep down, that she really hasn't.


**Author's Note: **I've had this floating around for a little while and decided some people might like it, short as it is. Now, I know how some people hate Stacy. Personally, I've never understood why. She's a very well-developed character and I enjoy how confident she is in herself - most of the time. She was very much suited for House, for as long as it lasted. So, here we are. Short instrospective Stacy one-shot. Enjoy! As always, I appreciate your thoughts when you press that review link.

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Things were clouding over. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, but it was definitely happening. The light was changing, darkening, deepening, moving towards another stage and what most people would call a closing. It wasn't a closing for her. It was a transition, and the clouds now partly obscuring the setting sun seemed to take on the appearance of an arrival more than a parting.

With two fingers, Stacy Warner twitched the living room curtain back slightly, like an instinctive move against the dimness. She could actually feel the sunset's warmth receding from her face. It was one of those late June sunsets, the ones that seem to go on forever until the night must surely become irritated at being kept at bay for so long. Stacy had come to love those rich, longing sunsets during that past month; they were something of a haven. Even if she could lose herself in them for just ten or fifteen minutes, it helped her. Somehow.

For most of the past two years, she had actually managed to deceive herself into thinking that she didn't _need_ help. There shouldn't have been any reason, at least not after a little while. She should have gotten over it, moved on like she had before. Half-convinced that she had managed it, she had continued. Ideas of looking back were swept brutally aside. But it was only lately that these subconscious thoughts had congealed into something she could take out and look at - and being wrong, especially about herself, was not something easily adjusted to.

She shouldn't be hiding down here, with the tired old excuse of closing up, turning off the lights... She always did it as slowly as she could now, and then she lingered even longer by one window or another, looking for something that wasn't there. It was beginning to mess with her emotions, actually. How long was she going to keep doing this?

"Stacy?"

Sighing, she bit back something that might have been a swear if she had allowed her mind to formulate it to that point. As it was, self-control helped her out of it. Her eyes flickered briefly back to the sky, then she reluctantly put her hand back at her side and the curtain fell to its former position. Just like before. Nothing had changed.

Mark was standing in the doorway as she turned around, his expression soft and concerned. "Honey, come on." He jerked his head towards the stairs.

"I'm coming," she answered slowly, finding the words strangely hesitant.

"Are you ok?" he asked in return. He came up and slipped his arm around her waist. "What're you thinking about?"

A brief look, a slight shake of the head - that was all she could find to show him. "Just thinking." Stacy wished that she could just turn around, melt into his grasp and forget that anything else existed. Instead, she found herself trying to shrug him off as a bit of annoyance flared up. "I'll be up in a minute."

He shot her a glance that was oddly knowing before he left the room. Stacy waited until she heard his footsteps going up the stairs before she switched off the last light in the corner and then ran a hand through her dark hair. A marriage wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be... _What?_ she asked herself harshly. _Romantic? You've been reading too many novels._ Life didn't go that way. Romance had been used up that one night two years before, when she had surrendered everything only to be met with final, bitter disappointment. That was a closed chapter.

But she didn't know how long she could keep on living a pretense. She had built it up so thoroughly that she almost believed it. Mark certainly did, at least most of the time, and it wasn't hurting him. It _was_ hurting _her_, though. God, if she could do it all over...

Stacy fell asleep on the couch a while later, and dreamed again of that night.

_End.

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Please leave your thoughts and comments! I do look at them very carefully.


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